In my own little corner, in my own little chair
I can be whatever I want to be
Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash
One of the earliest movie musicals I remember watching was Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella. Not the version with Brandy, although that is a classic that should be revered for its iconic casting and performances. I’m talking about the version starring Lesley Ann Warren, which aired in 1965.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: Melanie, you weren’t alive in 1965. In fact, your parents were in elementary school in 1965. And you’d be correct.
Chalk it up to my mother’s love of musicals and skill with a VHS recorder, but I watched this version of Cinderella a lot as a kid (I did watch the Brandy version quite a lot as well).
I often think Cinderella is one of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s most underrated musicals. It gets far overshadowed by the Disney animated version, but the songs by R&H are indisputably superior. In one show you have “Ten Minutes Ago”, “A Lovely Night”, “The Stepsister’s Lament”, “Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful?”, and the absolute bop that is “Impossible”. And of course, “In My Own Little Corner.”
I have distinct memories of dancing around my house with my hair tied back in a handkerchief while singing that last title on repeat. Ironically, I now would much prefer to play one of the stepsisters than Cinderella herself. Nevertheless, something about the message of that song spoke to me—and still does.
As a kid, I had a very active fantasy life. My mom will recount stories of my “friends” Millie and Jill, with whom I would run around the backyard going on adventures. I directed my Barbies in musicals well into middle school. And, I went through a substantial period happily playing baseball by myself. Let me tell you how demoralizing it is when you throw yourself out at home plate.
When I was a teenager, this daydreaming turned into casting and choreographing musicals, writing myself as a character in my favorite sitcom du jour, or writing my own scripts in which the main character was the choir director of a high school and suspiciously had traits similar to me.
I don’t know when I stopped. Maybe it was getting my first iPhone, which never left space for boredom and wonder. Maybe it was Grad School, and instead of dreaming about being a choir director, I was becoming one and my day-to-day life didn’t match the elaborate life I envisioned. Regardless of the cause, fantasy got overtaken by reality.
During the pandemic, I was forced to sit by myself, which gave me time. Time to think, to daydream. It’s that daydreaming that got me out here to LA. I wouldn’t have moved if I wasn’t writing again, dreaming as I did when I was 13 about winning an Emmy. Throughout the pandemic—and going through books like The Artist’s Way, I gave myself time and space to dream—to be an artist and tap into my unbridled childhood creativity and confidence. The confidence of the kid who wrote and directed a mystery for her entire 4th-grade class to perform.
That self-assuredness doesn’t always stick around as much as I’d like when life gets going. When I’m that busy, it can feel like I’m going through the motions of my life without really being present or taking the time to enjoy it. Even more, I’ve found that the busy pace ticks up my anxiety—which leads to a whole lot of self-doubt. You would think I learned this lesson in the years leading up to 2020, but apparently, it’s a hard one to really internalize.
So, I’ve been forcing myself to slow down, to be present. Little by little, I’ve been restarting the things that I did to fill my time during the pandemic—hobbies, I think they are called. I started a cross-stitch that has sat idle for months, tuned the very sharp strings on my guitar, and finished books that have been languishing on my bookshelf half finished. And, paradoxically, I remember that having time alone isn’t a bad thing—in fact, it allows me to get more in touch with myself and what I want.
Which leads me back to daydreaming. Anyone who has read this newsletter or has talked to me in the last month knows my complete infatuation with a certain French procedural. For the risk of losing my audience, I’ll just say Candice Renoir reignited a way I saw myself as an adult way back in those teenage fantasies.
In the early characters I wrote of myself, I saw myself as a similar woman, strutting into a room with a winning self-assurance, a quirky personality, and a great pair of heels. And, really attractive suitors. At the end of the series, Candice says something along the lines of “I used to try to change myself for other people, to act the way people wanted me to act. I won’t do that anymore. ” (loosely translated from French).
And that’s where I am today. Some part of me wonders if I stopped daydreaming when I felt like I had to live an “adult” life—what was expected, be it by society or other standards I imposed. Like I somewhere decided fantasies were impractical, so I stopped trying to think about “what if?”. But then I remember that I’m also the person who went to Vietnam for a month with a backpack and moved her life to LA on a whim. And, I remember that there’s space for fantasy in my daily life—even if it doesn’t look exactly like I had imagined.
My life isn’t anything like the early daydreams I had as a teenager—I am no longer a choir director, and I never fell in love with the sexy history teacher across the hall (there wasn’t one), and I didn’t become best friends with Rachel Green and Monica Gellar either. But I’m getting closer to the person I wanted to be at 16—a person who waltzes into a room and confidently is herself, wearing a great pair of heels.
I’m not really sure where I’m going, but in my daydreams, I have signed a book deal and am going on tour, confidently owned a boardroom presentation, or moved to the south of France after meeting the love of my life. This is not to say I’m not enjoying my life now—on the contrary, I’m incredibly happy where I’m at—but I find that giving myself the permission to daydream, to think about the grand possibilities ahead of me, makes me more appreciative of proud of where I am in the present.
Regardless, by sitting in my own little corner, I reminded myself I can be “whoever I want to be…and the world will open its arms to me.”
Ten Things This Week
The Brandy Cinderella is on Disney+. It’s a masterpiece.
I do still have a soft spot for the Lesley Ann Warren version.
If you don’t have time to watch the full movies, please take the time to watch Whitney Houston as the Fairy Godmother we all need.
And Dame Julie Andrews in the role in the first made-for-TV outing.
I’ve recently gotten back into manifestation journaling. These prompts have been very helpful.
A lot has been written on the importance of being bored. Here’s an article I really liked.
One of my daydreams is to perform a story I have written live. Maybe I’ll go to a Moth Story Slam.
In the meantime, I am performing improv and have upcoming class shows at UCB in LA.
One of my newly finished books was “I Feel Bad About My Neck” by Nora Ephron. As with everything by Nora, it’s a delight.
I’m thinking about getting these shoes. Just because.
Till next time!